The Heroic Legend of Arslan - Book of One-Shots
by KayleySayer
Summary: I have just recently watched "The Heroic Legend of Arslan"/"Arslan Senki" and really took a liking to it. I enjoyed the Anime and Manga alike and started writing out some short One-Shots that I am presenting to you now! Have fun reading! :D
1. What's worth fighting for - Shapur

**The Heroic Legend of Arslan – What's worth fighting for**

 **Shapur One-Shot**

 _Pars Era, the year 320, autumn._

 _The army of the Kingdom of Lusitania to the northwest contrived to bring down the Kingdom of Maryam and then set out to invade the Kingdom of Pars._

 _In response, Andragoras III led his army himself and marched to the Fields of Atropatene to intercept the invading army._

 _Crown Prince Arslan embarks upon his maiden battle. He is fourteen years old._

* * *

At the Fields of Atropatene was where it began. Atropatene. A wide area, well known to the Parsian army for they had fought and won many battles upon those sacred grounds.

It was just another fight, for a Marzban like himself. Shapur had fought many. Being already 36 of age, Shapur had had his fair share of responsibilities thrown upon him as a Parsian soldier. Still, for a Parsian soldier he was rather young, might I add. But he was a loyal soldier to his land and to his King. And this was what brought him to Atropatene.

King Andragoras III, Eran Vahriz, Marzban Kharlan, Marzban Kubard, Marzban Manuchurh, Marzban Khayr, Marzban Khurp, Marzban Khshaeta, Marzban Daryun und at last he himself, Marzban Shapur.

All of the eight Marzban command ten thousand cavalrymen each. Combined with King Andragoras III personal guard, the vast army totals 85 thousand cavalrymen and 138 thousand men on foot. It was truly an army that would outnumber most by a large amount.

Additionally, the geography of the Fields of Atropatene was fully known to the soldiers of Pars. The Lusitanian army had as good as come all the way to a foreign land, only to dig their own grave.

This is what everyone of the soldiers believed. And with their King marching alongside them, no one even dared to doubt the victory of Pars.

But when night finally fell upon the lands, heavy wafts of mist started gathering along the horizon, clouding their view, making it impossible to see their enemies' position. But in return, making it impossible for their enemy to see theirs.

However, the mist didn't only cloud their view, it clouded their mind as well, clouded their perception – left no room for doubting thoughts. 'Retreat' was a word the King had not once used in his life. If he even knew that said word existed at all. A warrior avoiding a battle – if that is not cowardice, what is it?

* * *

"Shapur!" A deep voice from behind him called while he was taking the saddle from his horse, allowing his loyal steed a last breather before the battle that was waiting for them.

"Huh!?" The other one replied irritatedly, obviously not in the mood to deal with his 'friendly rival', "What do you want, Kubard? As you can see, I don't have time and I don't have the nerves to deal with you right now."

This caused the other to give a laugh. He knew that the black-haired Marzban didn't appreciate it to be disturbed during the night before a battle, knowing fully well that same Marzban's thoughts weren't on the battlefield but far, far away, straying wherever his mind took them.

"Marzban Shapur, strongly loyal to his Majesty and a firm follower of Pars. An uptight and rather serious man, always only proceeding in a straightforward and logical manner," Kubard rambled, ignoring the hateful look that the other Marzban pierced him with.

"What do you want!?"

"Well," the grey-haired replied, his good eye focusing on his fellow soldier until they locked eyes, "Your thoughts don't seem to be here, as they should be, since the battle is about to begin soon. Are you thinking about it again? What's worth fighting for?"

"This is nothing of your concern!" Shapur replied angrily and stomped away, giving the reigns of his horse to one of his subordinates, retreating to a tent for the night.

The veteran warrior could only give a sigh, "One day you won't be able to run away… You will have to decide whether you want to be a soldier of Pars or..."

* * *

Morning never came, for the fog never made way for the sun, yet the clarions announced the red dawn. Blood was about to be shed upon the Fields of Atropatene.

"That is the signal to attack!"

As soon as the sounds faded away, everyone started preparing for the battle, being led into formation by their respective commanders.

"We will avenge our ally Maryam and give those savages a taste of justice they will never forget!"

"Our last big battle was sometime ago! I had better not see us lagging behind the other divisions!"

All soldiers gathered in formation, intently listening to their king's speech, awaiting their orders – awaiting to steadily go forward, trusting that the ground before them was nothing but a vast land.

"O kings of old of Pars! Sage King Jamshid! Hero King Kaykhusraw! And the spirits of all the other kings! We beseech you to watch over this army!"

"We beseech you to watch over this army!" The soldiers repeated with complete conviction.

For the last time before the upcoming battle, silence fell upon the Fields of Atropatene. The quiet before the storm. Only one cry could be heard that penetrated the gloom of the mist.

"Yashasiin!"

At the Fields of Atropatene was where it began. Atropatene.

* * *

' _What's worth fighting for? What actually makes a warrior?'_ Shapur thought, leading his company forward, his hand firmly grabbing the reigns of his horse. Even though, battle came upon them, his mind was occupied with the question the 'drunken idiot' asked him. _'It's been 26 years since I have become one and 10 since I have become a Marzban. But what makes a Marzban of Pars?'_

The army marched forward. The galloping of the hooves against the ground could be heard even many miles away, the wind carrying the sounds onward through the vastness of the land.

' _Is it pride? Honor? Or the glory we receive with our every return from a battle?'_

The cavalry rode forward, the enemy ahead of them. With their blades unsheathed, the Parsian soldiers headed into battle, ready to annihilate the enemy – only to fall into the grave that had already been excavated for them.

' _Is it for land and king?'_

A deep moat, for those who rode to fast ahead and fell inside too deep to climb the precipitous cliffs. And for those stopping, halting at the edge, too broad to cross.

The following troops were able to halt and turn in their advance, changing their course to avoid the moat and choose a path around it while dodging lit arrows the enemy aimed at them.

' _I am a Marzban of Pars! But what does this mean to me?'_

A sudden gush of wind and enormous tongues of flames caught his attention. It wasn't just a moat. It was supposed to be a grave – mass murder.

' _I am responsible. Responsible for all these men that are dying right here, right now.'_

In the mixture of the sounds, the hooves against the ground, the battle cries of the soldiers, now joined the agonizing screams of the miserable soldiers that rode at the front. The blazing flames consuming not only their bodies but also their voices, making their tortured screeches fade in the wind, getting lost in the mist.

' _I have land. I have wealth. Yet, I have to see my underlings die… What use does my wealth have, if I can't save the ones I'm responsible for?'_

They came to a halt again. Arrows were being shot at them from in front of them. And above. From towers with archers on top, the Lusitanians started encircling them, making it almost impossible to gain some ground and benefit from the advantage of geography they thought as given.

' _Still I have become a Marzban… But why?'_

One after one, the soldiers fell, either by arrow, by sword or by the flames. It was a trap – and they blundered right into it.

' _Wasn't it because I wanted to protect others? Because I wanted to protect my dear brother and the woman I love?'_

He and the remaining of the soldiers that were following him were barely able to escape, managing to retreat behind the troops of his fellow Marzban, Kubard.

' _NO! I'm a soldier of Pars! I'm fighting to serve the King and my country. No one has ever defeated Pars under the King's leadership. Our victory is a given.'_

But the relieve to be able to take a breath and rest even if only for a very short time was immediately diminished again, when several indignant calls started to reach his ears, spreading among the soldiers like wildfire.

"THE KING RAN AWAY!"

"THE KING HAS RUN AWAY!"

"HE RAN! HE RAN AWAY!"

"KING ANDRAGORAS HAS RUN AWAY!"

Nothing else could be heard anymore but the wild rumors of the King's flight that raced across the battlefield.

The soldiers' resentment about the King's retreatment and his abandoning of them only grew with every passing minute.

"Our King Andragoras? The Invincible King has ran away?"

"LUSITANIA IS VICTORIOUS!"

"What?" Kubard exclaimed, obviously not being able to believe the rumors the soldiers carried forward to him.

Metal collided with the ground, a metallic sound resonating from the object that was thrown away, when Shapur tossed his helmet aside. "This is absurd! We are here, risking our lives in battle, yet the King leading our army runs away?!"

More metallic sounds could be heard, caused by the Parsian soldiers on foot that were devastated, letting their spears fall to the ground, all fighting spirit losing them. The devastating war had defeated them.

"The morale of Pars had been dragged through the mud. There is no coming back from this," Shapur continued, only to be interrupted by the Marzban beside him.

"I quit! I quit!" Kubard proclaimed, raising his broadsword above his head, resting it on his shoulder, "Who would be fighting for now? I've no life to offer the likes of a king who abandons his men and runs."

Not only the morale of the simple soldiers had been broken. The Marzban, those most loyal to the king, lost the will to fight as well.

"We, too, will be fleeing as we please, Shapur."

' _If we don't fight who else will?!'_

"Kubard! What are you saying?! You are a Marzban! And you would incite your men to quit fighting?!" Shapur countered, a frown visible on his face. With his finger raised at his rival, he argued, "The King has his responsibilities and we have ours!"

"Protecting his kingdom is the first and foremost duty of the king. It's that duty that gives a king the authority of a king… The King is no longer worthy of being a king. And the same applies to us."

His argumentation was solid and with the taunting look he was giving him, Shapur knew that the grey-haired man had made his decision.

"You yourself threw down your helm in rage just now."

"No, that was thoughtlessly done," he replied, taking the courage to stand up for the king he himself doomed just a few moments ago, exclaiming "The King did not run away! He must mean to return to the Royal Capital of Ecbatana in anticipation of fighting once more!"

But a look at the soldiers told him that no words were able to re-ignite their spirit and nationalism.

Instead he averted his eyes back at the one-eyed Marzban, accusing him, "You are a subject of the crown. If you dishonor His Majesty any further, friend or not, I will show you no mercy!"

"Oh-ho. Interesting. Just how do you intend to show me no mercy?"

Pushing their horses forward to approach each other, they head butted with fierce looks in their eyes, emphasizing that they both valued their beliefs and weren't about to back down.

That is until they were interrupted by the call of a soldier, "We're under attack!"

A unit of soldiers belonging to the Lusitanian Kingdom was approaching them, their weapons raised in warning, the banners of Lusitania proudly carried at the head of the column.

With a strong pull of the reigns, Kubard turned his horse around, earning an offended look from the black-haired, "You would run from me, Kubard?!"

"If we do not drive away that enemy force, there will be no retreat to be had," he replied with an amused smile, "After we have taken care of them, let us speak at our leisure upon the makings of a subject of the crown. Eh, Shapur?"

"You had better not tell me at a later date that you have forgotten!"

"I will not forget. If this later date should come to pass, that is."

The other let out a grunt in reply.

"One more thing, my friend," the grey-haired started without looking back at him, "If this later date should come to pass, you can't pull off any more excuses. You have already had the guts to ask her for her hand in marriage. If you don't intend to actually marry her, no matter the circumstances that might hinder you, I might as well do so!"

With this last words and his sword raised in the air, he drove his horse forward, riding towards the Lusitanian army head on.

"As if I'm going to allow that," Shapur grunted to himself, before pushing his own steed forward as well.

' _I would have married her a long time ago if it would be that easy.'_

Sword clashed against sword, spear clashed against spear. Soldier fought against soldier.

' _To marry someone that was exiled from the Kingdom of Pars… I would have to beg on my knees in front of the King to lift the ban...'_

With Kubard's and his combined forces they were gradually able to push back the attackers, gaining ground bit by bit.

' _To marry someone that was exiled from the Kingdom of Pars… The King would relieve me from my duties as a Marzban and send me into exile along with her... That is, if he wouldn't have my head for this violation of my boundaries and loyalty.'_

A steel trumpet resonated in the distance, signalizing the arrival of support troops for the Lusitanian army. The ground they just gained had already been claimed again by their enemy. The imbalance between the two hostile armies was becoming all the more clear to the defending Parsian soldiers.

' _Begging the King to lift her ban? Compared to this hopeless war we are fighting right now, it would be an easy task.'_

"Shapur! Keep your act together!"

Kubard's voice brought him back from his thoughts, making him realize that a battle was by no means the best place and time to be lost in thoughts. Kubard... ~ _'What's worth fighting for...'~_

Pictures of a happy family invaded his head, his facial features growing more grim by every happy memory that was added to the collection. Pictures of him, his brother Esfan and of the woman that he had loved for so many years…

A loud battle cry escaped his throat and with his sword raised high into the air, he marched forward, finally knowing the answer to the question that had been badgering him for a rather long time.

' _What's worth fighting for...'_

Without being able to counter the blows they were receiving, the Lusitanian soldiers fell victim to the sword of the Marzban one after the other.

' _Is it for pride? Honor? Or the glory we receive with our every return from a battle?'_

The Lusitanian force drove them backwards.

' _Is it for land and king?'_

They outclassed the Parsian army by too many men.

' _Is it for the position as a Marzban? Is it for the responsibility for the life of other soldiers?'_

A victory in Pars' favour was unthinkable.

' _NO! That all may be heroic motives, but this isn't what's worth fighting for, for me.'_

More and more of his own soldiers fell by the weapon of the enemy. His own soldiers that he was responsible for, that he had cared for. His family on the battle field.

' _No matter if I have to abandon my position as a Marzban or if I'm exiled from Pars… What's worth fighting for is my family!'_

The Lusitanian soldiers broke through their ranks, no one was able to stop their advance now.

' _I should have fought for her when I still had the chance to.'_

The enemy encircled him, attacking the loyal steed that had carried him all the way into this forlorn war.

' _I should have lived my life the way I had wanted it to.'_

Stumbling to the ground, his sword being wrested from his hand, he was captured by the opponent's soldiers.

' _I should have protected my brother and wife until the end.'_

* * *

The enormous gates of the Royal Capital, Ecbatana, came into sight. The Lusitanian army was closing in on its walls, plundering, murdering, leveling the villages along their way with the ground.

At the head of their campaign, tortured and chained to a post, a pool of blood around his feet, a well-known Parsian soldier. Marzban Shapur.

To see one of their most famous soldiers, one of their Marzban in the hands of the enemy… That was the last evidence the Parsians needed to proof the rumors true. King Andragoras III and the invincible cavalry of Pars were utterly crushed by the invading Lusitania.

"A bastard like you… There is no reason I should have to listen to a bastard like you censuring my beliefs. Hurry up and kill me. I would rather go to hell or anywhere else than be saved by your god. And from there, I will watch to the bitter end as your god and your kingdom are devoured and killed… by your own cruel ways."

"Why you… sinful rat! You heathen! You beast! You enemy of God!"

A spear in hand, the archbishop that dared to dishonour a Parsian soldier, started beating him up for his words of defiance. But this only sparked a new flame inside him.

"People of Ecbatana, shoot me to death with an arrow! It is too late to save me! Rather than be tortured to death by these Lusitanian savages, I would die by the arrow of a friend!"

Following his last wish, grieving for their lost Marzban who even in death defied to let go of what he believed in, the archers tried to save his life by giving him the final blow. But no arrow reached him.

' _So this is how I die… Even though I wish that I could have seen them again, I'm proud to die as a faithful Parsian soldier. Everyone has to answer for themselves what they want to fight for. But what's worth fighting for, for me… is the love for my family.'_

And finally, he was freed from the torture by the arrow he was desperately waiting for...

* * *

"Leiya," a voice called, causing said woman to turn around and look at the person that was approaching her, "It's my turn now."

The moon was just starting it's decent in the sky when the travelling musician came to take over watch from her.

The woman, sitting on a tree stump at the edge of the clearance they chose as their camping place for the night, however, didn't move an inch. Instead, she scooted over a bit and patted the space on the stump beside her, silently asking the purple-haired to join her.

"You should get some rest as well," he replied but still sat down next to her as requested.

She gave him a barely visible smile in return before averting her eyes to admire the beauty of the cloudless night sky. "Allow me to keep you company for a while."

Giving a hum in reply, he followed her gaze upwards, looking at the celestial bodies that scattered along the horizon.

"Did you know that he had a fiancée?" She asked, her eyes remaining set on the stars.

"Who?" He asked in return, quite confused by the sudden change of topic.

"Shapur. The Marzban whose life was taken by the arrow you shot."

Now he remembered that he had told them as he first crossed paths with the group around Prince Arslan about the things that happened in Ecbatana during the King's and the army's absence.

"To be together with someone as loyal to fault to a king, who betrayed his own kingdom, as him, she must have been rather foolish."

This statement earned him a low chuckle from the woman beside him. "She was. She was foolish, sometimes even narrow-minded and had a tendency to disobedience… Furthermore, she was the most stubborn woman I have ever met. Yet she loved him with all her heart."

"If I wasn't mistaken I would say that you're talking about yourself," Gieve mused, lightly laughing to himself.

But when no answer came he turned to her, his eyes absorbing the features on her face. Until he noticed the longing the cold light of the stars reflected in her eyes.

"You **are** talking about yourself..."

"Yes..." It was only a whisper but loud enough for him to hear.

His mouth stood agape and he was fumbling for words, obviously overwhelmed by the situation.

"No need to apologize."

"But..."

"I didn't tell you because I wanted you to apologize… I wanted to thank you."

If he wasn't at a loss of words before, he definitely was now. Gieve being speechless in front of a woman? A rare side to see, indeed.

"You want to thank me for killing your fiancée? You had every chance to blame me, even take revenge while I was asleep, yet out of all the possibilities you could have chosen, you choose to thank me?"

This elicited laughter from her, louder than before, but still in a low volume as to not wake the others.

"I have learned that from a war ignited by revenge, nothing can be born but sorrow. Even if I did kill you, Shapur's life wouldn't be revived in this world," she explained, her eyes had closed by now and a small smile adored her face, showing that she had already shed all the tears she could. "I want to thank you for freeing him from the torture he was receiving."

"But wouldn't you be happier to be together with him?"

"Our relationship was doomed from the beginning. If on earth or in heaven, I doubt that our souls were meant to be together. This is the fate the gods forced upon us. Now more than ever, for his sake as well, I need to keep on living. Love… that's something worth fighting for."

"You forgot something," Gieve intercepted, his eyes averting back, looking at the stars above, "This woman you were talking about, is the most kindhearted person I have ever known. I'm sure her fiancée – wherever he might be now – is very proud of her."

* * *

 _Updated: September 09, 2017 – Saturday_

 _~KayleySayer_


	2. Encounters - Shagad

**The Heroic Legend of Arslan – Encounters**

 **Shagad One-Shot**

Forward. Faster. _Freedom…_

Freedom? Can this really be considered as freedom?

Impertinence. Offence. _Treason..._

Treason? Was what she did reason enough to charge her with treason?

Contempt. Banishment. _Exile…_

* * *

It was just another peaceful day in the sprouting trade metropolis, the port city Gilan.

The streets were buzzing with laughter.

Merchants were selling their goods, trying to get all the money they can from inexperienced customers dazzled by the foreign goods laid out before them. Most of the goods came from far away, making it impossible even for other merchants to value the different objects, allowing their temporary owners to sell them off for prices even ten times their actual worth.

Children were laughing, running along the streets while playing games on their own or with their parents.

In secluded corners extravagantly dressed, foreign women were waiting for their prey, ensnaring those who fell victim to their beauty, promising them ephemeral dreams for the night.

There was nothing special about this particular day. It was just another peaceful day for the people of Gilan.

Shagad, a man in his early twenties, joined the hustle and bustle on the market. He was a rather prosperous merchant himself, even though, he was only young of age. His brown hair that was tied into a high ponytail was flowing due to the soft breeze, some strands brushing against his cheeks, caressing his fairly tanned skin. With his green eyes he marvelled at the sight around him. No one could ever get used to a city as lively as Gilan.

His eyes travelled along the stalls, admiring the goods the merchants brought along from their voyages. These same voyages were something he preferred to evade as more time passed. He was always searching for a new adventure, – no question! – but with his growing wealth his responsibility increased. And greater responsibility and less freedom go hand in hand.

Yet he wouldn't have it any other way. What he achieved in his life up to this point was far more than he had ever expected to manage.

And managing was what he did. He employed other merchants, mostly seafarers, to buy specific goods in foreign countries for him, so he could sell them again in Gilan. But sometimes he had the urge to experience something as close to his old adventures as it could possibly get.

What other place was there for him to go to?

The flourishing market was what brought him onto the streets of Gilan. The extraordinary goods and the foreign merchants. The market was the best place to experience the difference of culture. Everyday there was something new to learn.

However, new knowledge wasn't what captured his undivided attention that time.

It happened in the middle of the street, fast, unseen to everyone's eyes but his. Even though, he was sure that the other visitors of the market clearly saw what happened, but they didn't care at all. It was nothing unusual. It was normal.

A girl surrounded by a few poorly dressed men who obviously had lewd intentions with the way they were forcefully hitting on the frightened girl. Shagad tried to catch a glimpse of the girl's face but her back was turned to him. All he could see was straight, dark-brown hair that sprawled all over her back until it reached her waist.

Suddenly and rather roughly the dark-brown mop of hair was grabbed by a hand and the girl was being dragged away into a narrow alley away from the market.

It was nothing unusual. It was normal. And normally he didn't care. And he didn't know what caused him to actually care that day. But because he did care, he followed the group.

The alley made a few twists and turns until it ended in a cramped courtyard. He expected to be greeted with a rather immoral sight, anticipating a helpless girl in the fangs of ruthless dogs. However, when Shagad entered the courtyard, he saw something he would have never imagined in his wildest dreams.

Standing in the middle of a circle of unconscious persons stood the girl he was intending to rescue from the group of men who abducted her. After closer observation he was able to make out the faces of same homeless men.

He averted his eyes in order to look at the girl who was standing in the middle of it all. Only now did he realize that she wasn't a girl but rather a young woman, most likely about his own age.

Dark-brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, the colour slightly fading in the length with its tips reaching her waist. Her eyes were hidden behind a curtain of bangs, making it impossible for him to look at her face.

In her hand she held a short dagger, its blade scintillating due to the lack of blood he assumed would cover it. This caused him to look at the men again, only to discover that despite being unconscious they indeed weren't hurt or wounded.

Only when he felt the piercing stare directed at him, he turned to her again. Her eyes, shimmering a bright turquoise, reminded him of sapphires, jewels that didn't seem befitting for a woman like her, for her clothing told him that she was of lower status. The dark pants she wore were far too wide to fit her slim figure, being held up by another cloth used as a belt. A rather large white cloth was used as clothing for her upper body. It most likely wasn't even meant to be worn as any kind of clothing but she managed to decoratively arrange the material so it would serve as a top as good as possible.

Not reacting to her stare, his eyes travelled upwards again until they reached the face of the young woman in front of him, who lifted one of her eyebrows at him, urging him to speak up.

"I am no bandit," he started, unsure what to say at all, "I don't mean any harm."

His green eyes glistened with insecurity, his eyebrows accentuating the frown that formed on his face.

"Who are you to claim that you don't epitomise lascivious behaviour?"

Carefully taking a step forward, his hands raised in reassurance, he slowly approached the woman, "I assure you, I mean no harm."

Why did he have the urge to approach her? – He still doesn't know. Her actions and behaviour were contradicting each other, causing him to be fascinated by the mysterious young woman.

His words caused her to tilt her head in a confused – he would almost say adorable – way, "You understood what I said?"

A light chuckle escaped his throat, amused by her confusion, "I am a merchant of Gilan, this city. My choice of words is to be considered superior compared to that of an ordinary citizen."

His narcissistic words earned him an evident sneer from her, her voice dripping with whole-hearted derision, "Do you intend to imply that one of lower status should raise their instruments of war against you?" She provoked, raising her dagger in her right hand to emphasize her question.

The movement of her arm revealed a rather nasty looking gash along the bottom of her ribcage. It was still dripping with fresh blood, soaking the previously white cloth with the dark liquid, causing it to be tainted in the kingly colour. If nothing else did, this simple horrid fact suggested the impression that it was a lady of royal blood who dared to oppose him.

"You are hurt," he bluntly said after taking a look at the open wound, his thoughts from before already forgotten.

"There is no need for you to state the obvious," she replied harshly with her dagger still raised.

He didn't know where her repellent behaviour came from, but he assumed that he saw something he wasn't supposed to see. It seemed that she would have preferred to stay in hiding without anyone following her around, possibly catching a glimpse of the person she really was.

However, he wasn't deterred by here hostile behaviour and continued in his advances, nevertheless, moving closer towards her until the point of her dagger was directly aiming at his heart. One more step forward and she would be able to pierce it. But he was confident that no harm would come to him. His facial features showed absolute determination. Whatever he had planned, he was sure he would succeed.

"You said that I am a man who those of lower status should raise their weapons against," he said in a soothing voice, trying to ease her hostility, "Yet you, a lady of high status, are aiming your dagger at me."

"Who tells you that I am of higher status?" She asked, the confusion returning to her face, her arm still pointing the dagger at his heart, her other hand forming a fist.

"Your clothes may seem poor but your choice of words can't be mistaken for that of a woman of lower class."

"One can easily be deceived by words."

"While this might be true, one can't be deceived by a false posture."

"What do you mean?"

"The way you are holding your dagger. You know royal swordplay."

She was obviously quite taken aback by the fact that he recognized her stance as royal swordplay. Not many knew the difference for most weren't taught how to fight in the beginning. But on the other hand, it assured her that his intentions towards her wouldn't be of the same sort as those of the group of men before him.

"And what if I do?" She gritted her teeth in irritation, not budging away one bit.

"If you do you won't be save out here," he answered truthfully. He knew that a woman like her would be able to ensure a good price for every slave trader. Her extravagant eyes combined with her knowledge of royal swordplay could be sold for a fortune.

Considering the advantages and disadvantages, he finally phrased the idea that had been forming in his head, "Why don't you come with me? You could stay at my mansion for the time being."

"You want me to come with you?" She questioned his invitation to stay at his mansion, taking a step backwards.

"I'm offering you a place to stay for the time being. You are wounded and have no place to go to. Try to think of it as a peace offering?" He suggested in return.

"Even though I have been pointing my dagger at you?"

He chuckled and turned around, already making his way towards the mansion. When he realized that she wasn't following after him he turned his head around, speaking over his left shoulder, "Even though you have been pointing your dagger at me."

This confirmation was enough for her to chase after him.

* * *

"Are you sure that I am allowed to stay here?"

"Of course," he replied while leading her through the courtyard and up the staircase to his house.

He came to a halt in front of the large doors, turning around to look into her eyes, his hand being held out for her to take, "Are you coming?"

With some hesitation evident in the movement, she carefully placed her hand in his, following his lead into the mansion.

* * *

"No! Take your hands off me!"

"I was told to help you!"

Shagad was on his way to check up on his guest when screaming caught his attention. As soon as he heard the protesting cries of the young woman he had brought to his mansion some hours prior, he immediately made a dash for the bathroom, where the uproar could be heard from.

When he reached the door and tried to open it to see what was going on, it was slammed open and he was greeted with a half-dressed young woman with dark-brown hair stumbling into his arms.

Out of instinct his hands flew to her sides, catching the breathless woman to steady her still falling figure. His good intentions, however, earned him a cry of pain and sharp nails that dug into his upper arms. He shifted the position of his hands, remembering that she had been wounded.

"Mister Shagad!" After the young woman in his arms one of his servants came into sight, standing in the doorframe to the bathroom. Her hair and clothes were quite dishevelled and after seeing her master standing in front of her she tried to rearrange her clothing and fix her appearance before she curtsied and started to explain the situation at hand.

"I was trying to treat the wound, as you have ordered me to, but she keeps revolting against my help. Please tell her that someone has to treat the gush or it will get infected!"

Looking down at the young woman in his arms, he tried to get a glance at her face but she turned her head away from him to avoid his attempt. Nevertheless, she stayed put in his arms, probably because of the lack of clothing covering her.

"Theresa, I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I'm going to take care of this myself," he replied, placing one of his arms around the shoulders of the woman and guiding her towards the bathroom, forcing his servant to step aside to allow them to pass.

"But Mister Shagad!" Theresa protested, her cheeks coloured in a healthy shade of red due to her imagination running wild, picturing her master helping a woman he only met to treat a wound in a place she would have to bare her upper body for.

"Don't worry, as indecent as your thoughts might be, I won't take advantage of a wounded woman. Now go and allow me to take care of my guest," he finished, closing the door in the face of his servant.

"That was rude of you," the turquoise-eyed woman replied, struggling out of his grip and wrapping her arms around her body, barely being able to cover her chest.

It was then that he realized how scarcely dressed she actually was. She still wore the pants, however, her upper body had been uncovered from everything that she had worn before, only a small cloth was wrapped around her shoulders. Her cheeks adored a slight hue of red. Even though, she managed to keep her countenance, if you took a closer look embarrassment was apparent on her face.

Closing his eyes to make her feel more comfortable, he responded with the same irritation, "It was rude of you to oppose my servant's help."

"I don't need anyone's help! I can take care of this myself," she replied, rather pricked due to the situation at hand.

"Well, why didn't you push me away as well?"

"YOU are stubborn. You would have followed me anyway, wouldn't you?"

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows tauntingly, keeping his eyes closed nevertheless, "I am stubborn?"

She huffed in reply, puffing her cheeks, "Do you intend to imply something preposterous?"

"I would never dare to do so."

After confirming that his eyes were indeed closed she turned around, her back now facing him.

"You can open your eyes again," the dark-brown-haired woman announced and pulled the cloth from her shoulders, relieving her upper body from the last piece of clothing covering it, her hair now being the only curtain to cover her body from his eyes.

He did as told and stepped closer, not caring that the woman in front of him was half-way naked but only caring to tend to the wound as soon as possible. It's not that she wasn't appealing to him, he would lie claiming otherwise, but he didn't see her as one of the foreign women from the streets. She wasn't seeking to seduce him for money and he didn't intend to force something onto her she wouldn't agree to.

His hands slowly travelled to her side, carefully lining the edges of the gash.

"Why do you care to help me, even though, I could have killed you today?"

The question caught him off-guard. Why did he care?

"Well, admittedly, I don't know. Maybe I was only seeking to gain your affection to satisfy my own needs," he whispered into her ear, caressing her other side with his hand.

"If that was the case you wouldn't have willingly closed your eyes without me telling you to."

"You might be right... Let's treat your wound now."

Lifting her arm in surrender, she allowed him to do what needed to be done.

* * *

Night fell upon Gilan, the water of the ocean reflected the last rays of the sinking sun, colouring the scenery in all kinds of warm hues for the last time that day. Like little lights in the night sky, one after the other the stars started to awake, illuminating the firmament with countless dots.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

The young woman, who was standing on a balcony that she had access to from the room she was given, turned around only to be met with the sight of her host. Her arms were slung around her body, hugging her form due to the soft breeze.

A small smile graced her lips and she waved him over, asking him to join her on the balcony.

Doing as requested he moved forward, slowly approaching her.

"You have never told me your name," he stated and shot her a questioning look.

"Do not dare to ask for a woman's name without being humble enough to introduce yourself first."

This caused a chuckle to rumble in his chest, his interest in her being piqued even further, "My name is Shagad."

She smiled at him in return. "Leiya."

Shagad stopped next to her, his gaze drifting along the horizon. From there you could see the ships inside the harbour, the ocean, and even a huge part of the market that was still buzzing with merchants and people alike. Although, most of them were occupied by the music that was played by a group of buskers, dancing, laughing, enjoying the night – not caring that after today tomorrow was about to come.

The young woman started humming along to the melody, causing an idea to arise in Shagad's mind.

"So, Leiya. What would you say if I asked you to prove if you are as good at dancing as you are at pointing your dagger at strangers?" The green-eyed man suggested, one of his arms sneaking around her waist, careful not to strain the wound on her ribcage that he had tended to some time ago that day, pulling her closer to him, his other hand taking her hand into his.

Even though, she was slightly taken aback by his bold behaviour, she allowed him to circle her in his arms, slowly twirling her around, spinning with her along to the rhythm of the music. He had seen and touched her in a situation even more intimate. She didn't think that any harm could be done if she allowed him to lead her into dancing. Well, if you could call it dancing at all. Due to the wound she had received, their dancing was limited to slow movements, but it was enough for them to enjoy themselves.

"You are a rather interesting woman, Leiya," Shagad mused, his eyes firmly locked with hers.

With her eyes never leaving his, she replied, "Thank you for the compliment, rather interesting man."

The words caused his eyes to sparkle even brighter than before. As far as she could tell, his interest in her wasn't because of her looks but because of the way she behaved. His interest in her was genuine. He was honest.

They stayed like this, dancing to the music, until late in the night, only the moon and stars being witnesses to the events of that night.

* * *

"Leiya! Could you handle this as well?"

Shagad entered his office that was occupied by his guest for the time being. During her stay in Gilan she almost immediately adjusted to the business of a merchant, becoming a great help to her host. For he was usually too lazy to do so, she took care of his paperwork while he took care of the other things including negotiations with other merchants and handling his stalls at the market.

When he reached the desk she was sitting at, he laid down the scrolls he had in his arms. The woman only shot the scrolls a short glance before starting to scribble away on the one she was currently dealing with.

"Just leave it here," she replied before granting him with a small smile.

Smiling in return, he nodded in contentment before stepping around the desk to thank her by planting a chaste kiss on her cheek before he hurried out of the door.

"You can be such a kid sometimes, Shagad," she mumbled to herself while allowing a light chuckle to escape her lips.

* * *

Passed hours turned into passed days. Passed days turned into passed weeks. And weeks passed until almost a month did.

Shagad and Leiya were resting from a rather hard day of work. Now they were both casually lying on a couch in one of the many unoccupied rooms in the mansion.

"Tell me, Leiya. When we first met, how did you manage to render the homeless men unconscious?"

Shifting from her position cuddled against him, she lifted her head to look at his face. His eyes were still closed and his arms around her pulled her slightly closer against his body.

"My father opposed against me learning how to wield a weapon. But no matter the circumstances, I was set on learning. My fiancée was a rather strong soldier. I started pestering him until he finally gave in and trained me. He was a part of the royal army. That's why you mistook my fighting for royal swordplay."

An uncomfortable silence fell upon them, until Shagad risked to break it.

"What was he like?"

After asking said question he immediately regretted ever speaking those words. Her hands that were grabbing the front side of his robes even firmer now proved his thoughts. But as soon as he wanted to take back his words, she answered.

"He is the most loyal man who I have ever met. Even though, he could be rather uptight and serious and tends to proceed in a straightforward and logical manner,… he is the one I loved."

Shifting himself in an upward position, he carefully pulled her with him, sitting the young woman in his lap with her head comfortably lying on his chest, his hand brushing through her long hair.

"Please excuse me, if I am too forward, but you are talking in such a way I can't decipher whether you are talking about the past or the present."

With her head securely cuddled against him, she closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing gesture she was granted with. "I must admit that I am talking about the past while I would actually prefer to talk about the present."

The ministrations stopped and she could tell that it was due to the confusing statement she provided him with.

"He is still alive. And, even though, I still consider him to be my fiancée, our relationship is doomed. I didn't come to Gilan on a whim. It was my safe haven after I was exiled from my home. For him to marry a banished woman would only result in sending him into exile along with me. He has a younger brother to take care of. I couldn't live with myself, knowing that I have torn his family apart."

"That's rather honourable of you," he replied, his eyes widening in surprise, while he continued to grant her with affection.

"Say… Why don't you stay here, in Gilan? Together with me?" He was stuttering, hesitation obvious in his voice.

A soft hum was what he received in reply. It hadn't been a concrete answer but he knew that she was trying to find the right words, not knowing how to answer his forward question.

She opened her eyes and reached for the hand that was brushing through her hair with one of her own, bringing it to a stop. Her eyes, however, were averted from him, avoiding his stare.

"I am honoured by your offer, Shagad… I really am! But even if fate doesn't want me to be with my fiancée in person, I want to be with him in heart."

"But I like you! And I thought that you like me too..."

"I do like you, Shagad. But I can't love you," she replied firmly and without room for discussion.

"Maybe not now. But the affection we hold for each other will eventually turn into love someday! If you can't be together with your fiancée, if you want him to be happy, why can't you be happy?" He desperately tried to persuade her.

It was obvious. He didn't want her to go, didn't want to lose her. She was the first woman he met who shared his values. It wasn't because of his wealth, nor because of his money. She liked him because he was himself, because he was a dreamer who believed that it was possible to abolish slavery, that idealistic ways can surpass realistic ones. They liked each other because they valued and believed in the same things in life. Both strived for freedom for everyone.

"Shagad… I really like you. And I do believe that I could learn to love you. But as long as he lives I can't give up. Even though, we might never be able to marry in the future, as long as there is hope, I am going to believe that everything is possible."

"It seems that I can't deny you that," he chuckled, however, with a crestfallen look in his eyes. Nevertheless, he turned to look at her directly. "Because that's what I like about you."

With his hands he carefully touched her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. His green eyes met her turquoise ones.

"There is someone you should seek out. His name is Narsus. He is an old friend of mine and I am sure that he will grant you asylum in his country. Gilan is a beautiful city, but it is dangerous. A lot of slave traders started to visit Gilan not that long ago. Even though, I am sure that you can defend yourself, please go and be safe."

"Don't you want me to stay?"

His hands left her face and he started to rummage through his pockets, searching for something.

"I want you to stay, but I know that there's nothing that binds you here."

Having found what he had been searching for, he took her hand in his and carefully slipped a thin silver band on her ring finger.

"This shall not bind you to any promise or force any responsibility upon you that you don't desire. But please take this as a token of our friendship and a promise to meet again in the future."

As a thank you and possibly as a farewell she kissed his cheek.

"I am sure that we will."

* * *

Forward. Faster. _Freedom…_

Freedom? Can this really be considered as freedom?

Impertinence. Offence. _Treason..._

Treason? Was what she did reason enough to charge her with treason?

Contempt. Banishment. _Exile…_

 _Exile… For as long as she lived, she was about to fight this verdict forced upon her._

* * *

 _Updated: September 27, 2017 – Wednesday_

 _~KayleySayer_


	3. AN - Amino

**A/N**

* * *

Hey guys! KayleySayer here~

Using this A/N I wanted to make do some advertising. I recently started getting involved in the world of Arslan Senki and really enjoyed the Anime as well as the Manga. The character development and the whole story are very special and seldom seen nowadays.

For all those of you who are interested in getting more involved in the fandom and like to take part in challenges of any sorts, Roleplay or simply want to talk to other fans about Arslan Senki/The Heroic Legend of Arslan, feel free to join us!

/c/ArslanSenki

~KayleySayer


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